


Clair de Lune

by Weaselandcherry



Series: I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Depression, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Introspection, Major Character Injury, Male Friendship, Physical Abuse, Recovery, Relationship Issues, Religion, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weaselandcherry/pseuds/Weaselandcherry
Summary: Love was an emotion he couldn’t seem to find in the wanderlust that was life. It wasn’t satisfying enough to think that perhaps it wasn’t for him- wasn’t meant for him. Wasn’t everyone entitled to the sweetness that was breathtaking, unconditional love, regardless of faults and hang ups?He wanted to know.
Relationships: V | Kim Jihyun & Main Character, V | Kim Jihyun/Main Character, V | Kim Jihyun/Original Female Character(s)
Series: I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544644
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Clair de Lune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love was an emotion he couldn’t seem to find in the wanderlust that was life. It wasn’t satisfying enough to think that perhaps it wasn’t for him- wasn’t meant for him. Wasn’t everyone entitled to the sweetness that was breathtaking, unconditional love, regardless of faults and hang ups?
> 
> He wanted to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! To anyone new, this can be read as a stand alone, but reading from the series adds to the experience.  
> To those who are following CFTC, I recommend reading this before I get to putting up the next chapter. Also, my writing style in this is different.  
> I wrote most of this chapter to Debussy's [ Clair de Lune](https://youtu.be/ea2WoUtbzuw).  
> If you like lyrical music better though, I recommend reading to these: [ Scalped](https://youtu.be/p2Qv6p0ZPJY) by Lissom and [ Loveless](https://youtu.be/JmC1I6_2g-E) by PRVIS.  
> Enjoy!

He wanted to know.

Ever since he took the pen to his own book, he tried to find a semblance of that indescribable thing his mother saw in him when she was alive. She couldn’t speak very well and most certainly couldn’t hear after her accident, but with what she couldn’t, she did.

It was all in her eyes, the very same hue of summer sea and cerulean crystal as his own. They saw through everything he hid and everything he didn’t know was inside of his very being. More than one occasion, he wanted to ask why she was so persistent to break him from his father’s mold, but knew what she would say in response. As an adult, he wished he still would have asked just to make sure he was right because every now and then, he found himself unsure of the words he etched on his parchment.

When he looked in the mirror, sometimes, he would see his mother gaze back then smile in that usual fascinated way. It left a warm buzzing in his chest throughout the rest of his day.

When the sky was clear and the wind soft against his ear, he would be reminded of the dreams he had when he was younger. His recollection was always hazy of them, even back then. Cloudy, hues and shapes of vibrant greens and blue, the smell of flowers, and the sound of music made only by God’s creations. Feelings of warmth, contentedness, and childlike wonder surged through his entire being when he would wake up. That was how he knew he dreamt of her, pleasantly.

The last time those very emotions coursed through his body was years ago and days after his first exhibit.

He took that to mean he was fulfilling what she last told him to do.

* * *

He was never alone, not really. Feeling lonely and being alone were different to him.

It was very seldom he felt lonely, Jumin did a good job at preventing that, but every now and then, there was a bubble of air that surfaced within him. It left him feeling uncomfortable causing him to push it back down beneath until it eventually wandered its way to the surface again, conflated with some empty, void substance.

As he got older, he found the bubble expanded in size. Each time it unveiled itself, it got more difficult and exhausting to press down.

One time, Jumin noticed. His friend was always ever observant and had a radar that honed in the slightest of changes. It didn’t help that he wore his emotions on his sleeve, but he thought he had gotten better at concealing them.

The second time Jumin noticed, his friend had told him he resembled an empty statue of plaster. No one would try to look inside of the flawless shell that he was. His reaction wasn’t one of anger; on the contrary, he revelled in the statement because at least Jumin knew.

He knew, so that meant it wasn’t his second time noticing.

It didn’t change the fact that the admission hurt a bit. Jumin said no one would try, and it saddened him that Jumin wouldn’t either.

* * *

His mind always flirted with existentialism, especially when he found himself up at late hours or had a drink or two. So when he found himself in such a situation where two out of two requirements were met, he was unsurprised.

The bubble slowly ascended, but he didn’t bother to push it down, not right then. Hollowness ate away like termites until it left him feeling completely unfeeling.

Not for the first time, he thought about the direction his choices were leading him. In the distance all he saw was… nothingness.

Frustrating as it was, all he could do was trudge along, one foot in front of the other, wishing that someone like his mother would appear on his journey and give him a sign he was moving in the right direction- although, there was nothing.

He thought back to a time when he didn’t feel so listless and rudderless. The feeling of tentative fingers swiping hair from across his forehead and a steady hand fastened to his forearm reverberated. Tinting each memory was a filter of saturated care that he could only put one word to:

Love.

* * *

His art soon began to reflect what his hands were vacant of, and it didn’t take long for his career to increasingly bloom. With each rung on the ladder he climbed, his wariness depleted, and his confidence grew. Though, as much as it felt good to have others take pleasure and grasp a little bit of him- that ancient vacuum vault- he knew the only thing that would truly satisfy him wasn’t within his reach.

Jumin’s father had once made an offhand comment to him about how he looked like a soulless man wandering for salvation. When he went back home that evening, he stared in the mirror for the longest time, wishing someone could capture his image for him because all he could see was the vastness of the ocean.

Love was an emotion he couldn’t seem to find in the wanderlust that was life. It wasn’t satisfying enough to think that perhaps it wasn’t for him- wasn’t meant for him. Wasn’t everyone entitled to the sweetness that was breathtaking, unconditional love, regardless of faults and hang ups?

He knew he had a list of shortcomings, but surely God hadn’t forgotten about his child.

* * *

He first met her while doing RFA related business. She was quiet yet cheerful and made fun of his hair color, and he couldn’t help but laugh along.

Hae Jin had a silent sort of kindness to her as her eyes shone a brilliant gleam of brown, but underneath, there was something that he knew he wasn’t seeing. Then came the urge to pry her open and reveal it because he had a feeling of what laid beneath.

A few meetups later and a red faced Hae Jin asked him on a date. It was flattering and exciting, and he felt something similar to the sun’s rays spread across his chest.

He had never taken the time to get to know someone. The last person he did so was Jumin, which was saying something. Quickly, he fell inquisitive and intrigued until he desired to know about her existence to a tee. It was exhilarating finding out the small things about her as much as the big things. How she liked her coffee. What she liked to do after a bad day. How she came to Seoul. Why she no longer kept communication with her immediate family.

Hae Jin, he found, was a woman with scars and wounds that were still open. Her behavior illustrated how reluctant she was at times; how she anticipated him to throw her aside was accounted for by her clinginess. He didn’t mind it.

One night, after a relaxing walk at the botanical, she confided in him. She told about how she grew up in a dysfunctional household where yelling and crying were substitutes for laughter and chatter and how alcohol was a monster that shrouded and growled at every iota of happiness that struggled to persevere in her childhood. It was only then that he truly understood what it was that remained camouflaged among her persona. They were the same- seeking the unattainable and never tangible, love.

He thought then, that if they couldn’t find it apart, then perhaps they could find it together and fill each other up instead.

* * *

Their first fight was over something mundane, and he couldn’t guess to what it was a few months later. To him, it wasn’t even a fight- more of a disagreement, really, but Hae Jin exploded. He did remember the acute shock he felt when she snapped at him, telling him he was stupid- an idiot.

Surely, the issue wasn’t solely about their tiff. He calmed her down enough to where she apologized and explained that her strong reaction was a result of always having to stick up for herself. In whatever way he could, he understood. She was receptive to his criticism and promised to communicate better.

It didn’t happen, he found. Hae Jin would get upset over little, simple things. He would try to keep the situation from escalating, then she would settle down and say she was sorry. A continuous cycle he was unnerved about but saw promise in her words every time she vowed to try, try again.

He had shed off the skin his father prided in him to wear, but he would forever remain his father’s son. If a method wasn’t working, he had to change tactics. It was very businessman-like of him- more like Jumin, he thought, but Hae Jin had open cuts and bruises to her identity and ego that needed to be mended. The sincerity in her voice was real to him.

When he suggested therapy to talk about her trauma and address it in healthy ways, he was yelled at. Hae Jin screamed that she thought he understood her pain, that only weaklings needed help. Unable to calm her effectively, that time, a frame of hers got thrown across the room.

* * *

It wasn’t that he was keeping Hae Jin a secret from the RFA, but it sure appeared that way.

To him, there wasn’t a rush; it just seemed like the timing never fit. Informing other members over the messenger lacked the intimacy that an in person introduction could accomplish, but she kept asking him- demanding it really- to where he finally gave in.

Yoosung was ecstatic and wanted to meet her like the rest of the members, and other members made their well wishes known. Jumin didn’t have much to say, but later called to invite him to have dinner one evening, specifically inviting Hae Jin. Another feeling of warmth spanned softly across his chest, leaving him with a lightness inside that he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Light dimmed and faded after the dinner. Hae Jin did not approve of Jumin. It bordered on hate, as much as he loathed the thought.

Driving back to her apartment was a long one, filled with a car ride long rant about how pretentious Jumin came across, how cold and blunt he was, and how weird his behavior with Elizabeth 3rd was. Disappointed was how he felt. He wanted the two people he cared most for in his life to get along with one another, to see the perfect imperfections he saw.

Jumin didn’t invite them as a couple over again at his penthouse, sensing wariness towards him, but he made an effort, that much was evident. He could see how hard Jumin was trying to form some sort of connection with Hae Jin, for his sake.

He tried to address the hostility she felt towards his friend, and he ended up having a pen thrown at his face.

* * *

The first time she hit him was a week after telling the other members about her. Hae Jin’s sister had called her, somehow aware of her dating him and asked for money. He had no knowledge about it when he came over and greeted her with usual pep, a dessert in hand. His greeting consisted of slamming cabinets and an angry spiel about how no one helped her when she asked for it, so how dare she.

Asking questions to understand what transpired was all he could do, and by the end of it, he realized that was his mistake because by the end of it, Hae Jin’s words were like lava, hot, unfiltered, and indiscriminate to who they hurt. Her feelings were like a pressure cooker, ready to explode any minute.

She got angry at him for being an artist, being well-known, having money, belonging to money, having friends like Jumin- everything that made up who he was. Later, when he went back home to look at the mirror, he would realize that defending against her words was his second mistake.

The slap to his face didn’t nearly hurt as much as the words that came hurling after it. He couldn’t find himself to wallow in it because it was so obvious that she didn’t mean it, not truly. Hae Jin was hurting, and the only thing he did was made her feel worse, made her feel bad about her actions.

So, when she cried and cried, he told her there was nothing to forgive.

* * *

He knew he was a coward at a young age. It was never more apparent than after his mother died. To him, her death was in vain, for even her eradication couldn't get him to be brave enough to embrace the ache to create completely, to flourish and paint; instead, he held behind his camera, the device acting as a crutch. He relied on it for so long, he forgot what life was like without it, grew accustomed to its infinite presence when he felt like he was stunted. It would shine and smile at him, telling him he was doing enough, that he would eventually get to where he dreamed of going, but it lied. Even it had pity to console the trembling milksop within him.

He knew he was a coward, but he didn’t know he was a freak.

Hae Jin taught him that though and made sure he knew why and knew it well.

She said he easily ruined her days with his fussing, with the way he talked, how he laughed because he had strange humor, with the constant fidgeting that he developed, and because of the amount of time he talked about Jumin and others. Apologizing aggravated her the most, yet if he didn’t say it, that would also upset her. It was better for her to know how much he regretted and how he craved to try harder.

* * *

He was convinced Saeyoung found out about Hae Jin’s fits merely from looking into her eyes. For some reason, the twin could see what she tried to contain under an iron grip.

A firm lecture and concerned golden irises had tried to penetrate into his skull, like they wanted to detect whenever he lied, to try and understand why he was met with denial at every corner.

Saeyoung got upset before he got desperate. He remembered flinching when the other male’s voice began to raise, an automatic response that he didn’t even register he did anymore. All of a sudden, the octave was quick to simmer, and Saeyoung was pleading with him- begging was a better word, and he felt his heartbreak.

All he had been doing was trying to love Hae Jin the best his inexperienced heart could, and Saeyoung made it a point that what he was being shown was not love in return. It slipped, he promised, when he told the hacker that Hae Jin only sometimes hit him, and that she didn’t mean any of it. She didn’t, it was years of abuse by the very people who were supposed to love her unconditionally and take her up in their arms; instead, she was greeted in the world with a scornful father and a neglectful mother.

Saeyoung said that didn’t matter; he said that everyone made their own choices in life. Then he did something he never thought the younger would do, he brought up his mom. It sobered his thoughts, and for the first time in a long time the smoke that filled up his lungs lightened just enough for him to question himself in a very different way than he had recently been used to doing.

Was everything really okay? Was this what love was really like?

He wanted to know.

Saeyoung didn’t say anything more, and when he got home, he saw there was an email for him. A one-way ticket voucher.

So, he didn’t think; he just packed his camera and snatched up his ready-to-go out of the country bag and got in a taxi in less than ten minutes. The longer he sat in the taxi, the more anxious he got because there was no way he could leave the country without telling Hae Jin… tell her that…

Saeyoung had called him right as his thoughts had begun to jumble. He wasn’t sure how the red-head knew where he was or that he had taken his hand, but he had and also had foresight to his own thoughts and began to ward off the doubt and desire to go see Hae Jin in person, to tell her that he didn’t want love like that. It was like Saeyoung read his thoughts and rewrote them for him to hold resolve long enough to make it to the airport. Before hanging up, he told him, if he was really so inclined he could call her and he’d monitor it.

The worst part about the call wasn’t the fact that Saeyoung had listened the entire time, it wasn’t the crying that eventually occurred or the name calling and depreciative comments, not even the part where Hae Jin claimed she hated everything about him. What he loathed was that when she picked up, she was in such a good mood, voice chipper as she answered and questioned in a sweet voice what he was up to.

He had to fight the sickening feeling down when he hung up. If not for his own, then their break up was for Hae Jin’s sake because she was right. He inflicted nothing but heartache and misery. His mother, Saeyoung, Hae Jin, they were all proof of the damnation that was his existence, and it was better for everyone if he left as soon as possible.

When he went to the ticket counter and asked about the next available international flight, the man gave him a big smile and claimed it was Greece.

* * *

Anxiety ridden at the ever present ringing of his phone, he finally gave in after three days of not connecting to wi-fi and an additional five of watching his notification count rise like C&R stock prices.

One call and two days later, he was back in Korea.

* * *

At first, he was apprehensive about her; she hissed and glared worse than a feline, and she took offense to his friend like she had never been scorned before, but then she didn’t seem so bad the second time. MC was caring in her own way, just like Jumin was. It was obvious by the way she tried to cover up the dinner meal she brought for Jumin, not caring to make it known that he had ruined what she had planned.

He wanted to show his appreciation to her because he had been neglectful of his friend while in his own head. His trip to Greece was silently scrutinized by the future CEO, but he said nothing, but he knew Jumin didn’t have to. Jumin was just doing a favor for him to save himself from the embarrassment of creating yet another lie.

He didn’t deserve sympathy or understanding; he didn’t even deserve Jumin’s friendship. He didn’t visit as much as he should have, didn’t inquire about his precious friend’s life. MC was a blessing in disguise as well as a mirror to his flaws.

* * *

The bubble had come again shortly after his return, and it came full force, practically jumping out. It was hard to think, hard to concentrate on his photography, and an overwhelming feeling of sorrow threatened to over take him.

Truth wanted to spill from his lips like syrupy poison. It was with that intent that he went to Jumin’s office akin to a lost boy who sought guidance and reprieve from the all consuming smoke that tried valiantly to consume his senses. He was desperate, but Jumin wasn’t there; nobody was.

No one was until MC came like a shadowy vessel in a thick of smog.

Apprehensive of her appearance as he was, her abruptness was a welcome distraction- a much needed one which was why he helped with her files.

Immediately, he expected some sort of negative feedback after hearing that she knew of him; it was arrogant to think that he would be above judgement from a stranger, but MC surprised him when he wasn’t met with criticism. Instead, it was gentle yet firm assurance.

She invited him out, using his gift in the process. He was usually content with silence, but more so then than before. Inwardly, he was thankful MC seemed just as comfortable with the quiet. The same at ease atmosphere continued into their late dinner, and they were wrapping up when he received a call from Saeyoung.

The unusual time the call came at caused him to disregard the past three weeks of utter hush he gave the male. Worried, he couldn’t help but answer and didn’t even get to finish talking when Saeyoung told him Hae Jin had contacted him crying hysterically asking where he was, alluding to self harm if he didn’t come. Through all the fear and panic, he had the sense to remember about his last talk with Saeyoung and made him swear to not tell Jumin- anyone but him.

Not much was recollected besides a quick apology, leaving enough cash for MC to get back safely, then catching a taxi as soon as he could.

Inside of Hae Jin’s apartment was dark and thunderous like a tempest; it smelt like desperate longing and blue embers.

There was an app she installed on his phone- he wasn’t sure how long ago. Hae Jin knew where he had gone, that he went to C&R, that he was at the bakery café at almost ten at night. It wasn’t hard to understand why she was upset, why she questioned him. Adamantly, he denied any cheating when she persisted the accusations. Convincing her was like trying to get an alley dog to eat from one’s hand.

Checking whatever visible areas of skin he could see, he was relieved to find her threats of self mutilation held no merit. Meek-like, barely audible, he told her to not do that again.

It scared him.

* * *

Hae Jin also didn’t like MC, he could tell without her admitting much. It was in the way she clung to his arm and tried extra hard in front of Jumin that day in the hallway of C&R. 

Hyun’s opening for _Zip-tie_ was that evening, and he wanted a smooth day. There was an inkling to not mess up anything that day: say the minimal, smile, make sure Hae Jin was happy. He surprised her with her favorites for breakfast, prepared a picnic, and took pictures all afternoon.

While he waited for her to ready herself for the evening, he checked the chatroom where he read with a pit in his stomach that Jaehee wasn’t coming. In her stead, MC was. He knew he had to inform Hae Jin; it would be better for everyone in the long run. She had a right to know that the blonde would be there. Bad surprises did exist.

Telling her while she ironed was his fault. It was a given that the news wasn’t pleasant for her. Hae Jin said it didn’t make any sense and to the best of his ability he tried to explain how much Jaehee admired Hyun and how rare the seats were. The subtext she read was that he wanted to see MC.

Her response was taking up the tickets; not wanting to leave fate to chance that she would have mercy, he plucked them from her grasp. Like always, he messed up and ruined everything.

The volcano rumbled and soot flurried his vision. Hae Jin, in a fit to get them back reached for them when he stumbled back, distraught by his own actions. Telling her to calm down never helped, and it didn't that time either. More irate, she shoved him, causing him to stagger and flesh kissed hot iron.

There was not concern for him, simply a sneer of mockery at his pain, then the tickets were snatched aggressively from his grasp. He didn’t know whether to fret over the burning of his skin or the blood that bubbled from the place her nail cut into after she retreated into her bedroom after making sure he knew it would now be up to her if they attended or not.

Ever more like the doll he fervently denied was slowly hollowing his insides, he sat pusillanimously, emotions reserved even after he cleaned his wounds. The burning was still present, but he didn’t mind. It was a distraction and the only proof he had of Hae Jin’s bittersweet love.

Much, much later, the door opened.

Despite what happened an hour ago, he couldn’t find it within himself to ignore MC’s existence. He knew how that felt.

Treading the water activated Hae Jin’s insecurity, and her fingers wrapped around his hand, and they didn’t leave until the musical was over and she announced that she had to use the bathroom.

In line, MC started talking to him, so he carefully entertained to the best of his ability, but he could feel the searching gaze on him the entire time. Questions he didn’t know how to answer flung at him, and he knew the lie he gave wasn’t good enough- he didn’t expect anything more.

Thankfully, MC seemed to accept it. That was until hawk browns pointed out what he neglected and was kind to give him a band-aid. He wondered if that was her passive way of challenging his words. Either way, he took it with a smile and placating nonchalance.

He thought the night couldn’t have gotten any worse after MC informed him that there was a hole in his favorite cardigan. Frustration over the day was hidden under the guise of examining it. The corner of glassy blues caught a hand reaching out.

Thrown objects, harsh touches, and angry molten flooded his vision before they were blinked away to a horrified MC. Not knowing what he did wrong that time, he apologized because it was most likely his fault, especially after seeing such an intense expression.

Luckily, Hae Jin showed up, but by the way she stepped to his side he knew she was still upset. He didn’t want to believe that she pressed against the throbbing of his arm on purpose. She was probably just tired; he sure was.

Crawling into a hole sounded just right especially after Hae Jin contradicted the excuse he gave to MC not minutes before. He had to focus on the ever increasing vice like grip on his arm to not catch the other woman’s gaze. It felt akin to a python coiling around its prey, trying to squeeze it into submission.

He hadn’t remembered the last time someone asked about his opinion, so the words that came out shortly after being asked were carried away and honest.

When he got home that night, his face couldn’t help but leer at his eye’s reflection, nose a centimeter from the glass, as he too pondered over his dreams.

* * *

The package was delivered when he made a quick trip to the store, allowing Hae Jin free reign. When he came home there was a curious question dancing on the tip of her tongue, so he explained the reason for the shoes.

Her reaction was a cold fury, silent and just as disturbing as her normal screaming.

Later, that evening she declared she was taking a trip. His gut told him this was her way of punishing him,

He didn’t know Hae Jin went to confront MC until Jumin called, asking if something was the matter with her after she abruptly left the room he placed her in. The next time he saw Hae Jin, he smiled and asked how her day was, knowing better to not pry into things she didn’t want him in.

* * *

The bubble had reared its ugly head once more, but he found it too tiresome to shove it back down. He tried coaxing it; on the fourth day, nothing changed. Nothing changed except he had to ignore it in front of an audience.

He had to play pretend and pick at his food in front of Jumin and his father. To make matters worse, MC was also invited and had accepted and made it her mission to scrutinize his every move. Her eyes rolled around him like a curious onlooker would to an animal in captivity- there to speculate and observe, except she was also the compassionate kind that cringed when the animal had to be restrained for grooming.

But… Jumin had brought something up, something that caused a reaction he hadn’t seen in the blonde before. Reluctance, anxiety, sorrow- things he was very familiar with, were evident in her behavior, as small as it presented itself. All of a sudden he felt guilty for his close minded thoughts.

That date was familiar. It fell within the parameters of when Hae Jin was scheduled to go to visit her grandparents in the country. Regardless of the small, unsure voice that poked him in the back of his brain, reminding him that Hae Jin would not like it, not at all, he offered to go in Jumin’s stead.

For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t help the genuineness that exuded from him.

* * *

Hae Jin had left a couple days prior but sending her away wouldn’t have made sense if she didn’t fizz and spark before dissipating into a gushing lull. Even though she left him with a peck and a declaration of her love before boarding the train, her words remained on his mind.

They trudged around in his empty mind, a cocoon that ricocheted the outside world that he played host to. Each letter knocked around like a ball attached to a paddle board; once one hit him, they kept playing, hoping with excited glee that they would connect time after time after time into an infinite loop. 

To a certain degree, they succeeded because he found himself asking in a hushed voice if MC was available to the receptionist that stayed in the intimate lobby of the blonde’s office space. He regretted coming the second the door opened and an off kilter MC emerged. The anticipation of seeing her that had slightly waned lifted once more when he saw her eyes brighten up in that usual way Jumin did while trying to maintain professionalism at work.

Her office was as bare as his friend’s in terms of personality and hominess, so he felt awkward and couldn’t figure out the best way to clarify his doubts. Fortunately for him, MC took pity and tried to make him feel at ease, but her words could only do so much; the weight that settled firmly in his stomach and the mush that marinated the empty float he called a brain was too dense to smother with distracting words.

For whatever reason, the young businesswoman appeared taken aback by his question then called his name out in a voice so patient and searching for the signs that pointed him in any direction but straight.

They joked and he gave almost smiles, the real ones not coming as easily as they used to, but it was better than what he was accustomed to. MC exuded familiarity that he thought he wouldn’t find comparable to Jumin. On a whim, he decided to ask her to lunch.

Big mistake.

He intruded and was on the cusp of messing something up, per usual. The last thing he wanted on his mind was that he was solely responsible for making a company’s stock price go down. For whatever reason that possessed her mind, she attempted to make his worry go away, like she wasn’t the one who was having bigger issues than his own insecurity.

Without his permission, his hand found the arm that still surged with pain every now and then, depending on how he moved or strained it. He was sure there was something wrong but didn’t care enough to have it checked out. The pain reminded him to try harder.

* * *

From the moment he touched MC’s shoulder and he was received with a yearning gaze not meant for him, he knew something was amiss. The parallels from now and the read on her from their lunch many days ago was not lost on him. However, it did get buried underneath familiar misery and anxiety when her hands went to travel along his throat. A rock hit the bottom of his stomach and proceeded to seep lower and burrow deeper when her face sobered from any emotion. The only thing he could do was try to lighten the mood with a poor joke and take back the tie she had stripped his person of.

It wasn’t until she hesitated in her confident steps did he finally begin to realize that he was being completely self-absorbent. MC wasn’t angry. After asking how she was as she stood as still as a wall at the last corner they had to turn down, he could see how agitated she was.

MC was shaken, and he liked to think that she was able to feel the comfort he wordlessly offered by standing close to her throughout. At times, she needed a touch to steady her wobbles. Though, providing it was no problem.

The tugging around his face did feel unfamiliar and foreign as he felt the polite and refined mask slip on. It had been a long time since he had to use it, since he was allowed to. It was akin to riding a bike after years of not, the jokes and idle small talk. He forgot about the underlying nuances of socializing with those from higher pedigree- never saying what they meant.

He didn’t have to look at MC to know how much she wished the inquiries stopped. It was why he didn’t sway their assumptions when asked about their relationship. He would likely not meet their acquaintance again anyhow, and if it was one thing MC didn’t have to fret about, he was happy to play dim.

The longer the dinner went on, the more he noticed MC retreated into her thoughts, whether it was a good thing or not, he wasn’t sure. Whatever calmness she had gathered dissipated when Sera made some comments that didn’t set well with the blonde. He could see there was more to the dinner, to the invitation, and he suspected it had everything to do with the couple in front of them. He wanted to respect MC’s privacy and continued in socializing, but her presence next to him seemed to grow colder and colder.

A toast was given before he could vocalize how deep his concern lied. Even with the help of his touch, the groom’s words seemed to cut into wounds that had hardly closed, and MC was brewing beneath her skin, and like a boiled pot covered up for years and years, her anger foamed and sloshed out, uncaring about the going-ons in the kitchen.

He could only watch, and a trickle of fear slithered into the worry and sympathy he felt at hearing her anguished words. He hated that his own feelings tried to override the ones he felt for her.

She left with a snarl of a curse and a spiteful overturning of cake, then eyes were on him and the couple, Sera muttering hushed expletives as if it didn’t sound like bombs in a desert. Surprisingly, he wasn’t’ bothered with the attention and terse atmosphere. In fluid movements he bid goodbye to his conversation partner and collected MC and his belongings, not bothering to give glance or apologies to the indignant couple.

Getting her voicemail was something amusing, the small smile that broke out over his lips at hearing it was like releasing a wound-up ball of tension, until MC made it clear it was her speaking. Embarrassment faded under the guise of finding the front lobby.

His attempt at calming MC down was dredging up gloomy childhood memories. It felt like the more he talked and tried to fix what he was saying, the more he felt inadequate and anxious. MC took every word of his in stride, though. He was silently thankful he didn’t have to thoroughly explain his thought pattern.

Her cadence was curiously unshaken and inflected, so he steered the conversation to the left before turning it right. If she was anything like Jumin, he knew she was containing the emotions she felt deep down.

His question led to her unraveling. MC’s dam broke, and her pitiful cries had him feeling somber with empathy. Pressing her to his shoulder came as naturally as a mutt caring for her litter. She was suddenly small and vulnerable, left out to sea, the light that usually glowed around her swallowed up amongst the tempest.

After a while, it seemed as if she had found a lifeline to pull her to safety, and he pondered with longing what it was that drug her from her darkness. He was still searching for his lighthouse.

* * *

Jaehee was sick and Jumin suggested MC assist with the left-over party tasks. It made sense, but it didn’t assuage the weary, fluttering feeling that settled in his gut. He was grateful for the help but couldn’t resist thoughts that believed he was conspiring for natural disaster by acquiescing.

As much as he tried to shrug off the doubt and Hae Jin’s skeptical glances when she thought he didn’t notice, he couldn’t. It was why he immediately volunteered when Jaehee raised concerns over a task she thought she had forgotten to inform MC of.

He didn’t think he would slam into her again. He was elated, and a new feeling of closeness flickered under his chest, but guilt threatened to slog down whatever fondness he felt.

MC was cold towards him. He tried to not take offense, knowing he probably unintentionally did something to warrant her ire. From experience, he learned to wait it out until the problem surfaced to properly address it. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long and even though he knew something was the matter, his stomach still dipped when hearing it from her mouth.

It wasn’t what he thought though. It wasn’t him.

She confided in her looming, haunting past, illuminating and peeling the veil that shrouded the rehearsal dinner. The hollow sense of loss was intricately woven in her recanting. He tried not to stare too much as she spoke, but at times his eyes would flicker over and see the faint tensing of her jaw that was the only sign of her grief- a hole she was still trying to fill up and bury.

When she finally trailed off, lamenting in the horrific nature of her friend’s death, V could almost hear a ricochet of himself in the silence in between. It reminded him of smoke slithering in his lungs and flaming life so close to his very own that it extinguished another as a result.

There was much in MC that he felt kindred to, a way much different than he did with Hae Jin. When she spoke of unworthiness and uncertainty in the eyes of brilliant love and a kind future, his heart clenched in quiet understanding. He had felt a fraction of what he felt now the night MC seemed to evolve their acquaintanceship. Now, it was like a blossoming Plumeria. The future of the buds he knew would be harvested for something more beautiful.

He felt a lightness percolate across his chest and a ghost touch of timid but affectionate fingers carding through his hair as the conversation evaporated dour feelings from the both of them

It poured around them. She stifled a laugh at him. He thought nothing of it, not even the wrath that would procure if Hae Jin somehow found out, as he invited MC back to his apartment, at least, not until he caught his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom as he stepped in to shower. He couldn’t bring himself to worry about whether or not MC had seen it. The fading bruise on his temple promised a wrecking should Hae Jin find out of his betrayal. He made a point to not look at the mirror while he undressed. Panic wanted to invade his mind, but scalding water compelled a much needed runoff. He didn’t leave until he applied the color correcting stick on his temple and a bit of concealer.

He wished he had taken more time.

Feet couldn’t help but stop dead in his tracks as blues watched with grim but blank as MC remarked a painting that he’d forsaken behind his couch. It was like the record to their profound afternoon had ominously skipped.

He might have caused her to secretly cross with him, but the fear that threatened to become exposed had taken precedence above all else. A small part of him hoped it would push her away enough to where she would leave well enough alone and perhaps him. The looks that were thrown in his direction, always looking for _something_ , were not lost on him. The probative questions weren’t either. He had been reminded of his primary feelings about her that evening as well as the ever-present haze that made bed in his head.

MC's words after made his throat tighten in hope that he didn’t want to acknowledge, hope that she- anyone would dig a little deeper and break through the shell he walked around in. She implied characteristics of patience and perseverance, and he couldn’t bring himself to put faith in her.

Despite the lack of faith, a ripple of loneliness gripped him after she left- as if she had taken the memory of their afternoon together with her. The only evidence he had of it was a rumpled blanket and tea stained mug.

* * *

Time with MC was effortless, he found. It set his nerves alight sometimes, always used to teetering on the edge of people’s emotions. It occurred to him, after contemplation, that she was doing what he did to others; she was attempting to take care of his feelings and wants. It came in the form of honesty, light-hearted messages, and brown eyes that glimmered while asking for his opinion. He wasn’t used to being fully aware of the attention.

It made him feel more self-assured, confident, and there was gradually a lack of self-doubt before speaking every word. The euphoric feeling was bound to be snatched from his grip just as he got comfortable and his fingers began to secure its hold.

Hae Jin didn’t like that he seemed too unlike himself.

Her hand was stopped by his face. He waited for the impact but realized with astounded, stuttered breath that it was his hand that prevented it. Hae Jin’s own shock was quickly overdosed by governing strength as she wrenched her wrist free and attempted once more. He was too stunned by his own actions to think about stopping that one as well. It resounded between his ears. For some reason, it felt worse than all the others.

He didn’t get to work through why before both his wrists were taken up by hands much smaller than his. Their dainty appearance an antithesis to their blinding strength. Hae Jin was speaking to him, but it fell on deaf ears.

In the aftermath, only then did he realize how grave the bruises were. He thought himself an idiot especially after coming to realization that he would have to see Jumin, his astute, critical friend, of all people the day after such an event.

Canceling last minute was dismissed within his thoughts, the inaction sure to ring more alarm bells on Jumin’s radar.

He was off to a rough start at the dinner, and he hadn’t even been at the table for more than five minutes. His hands fidgeted; blues made a conscious effort to not look into the dark ones that always seemed to peer too deeply into his soul. He feared Jumin knowing something was off kilter, and he didn’t want his friend to worry.

Pretending was something he did habitually, but it was as if the world had turned upside down, and he was doing everything backwards, wrong. He dazed off in jittery thoughts. He even knocked over his water, spilling its contents over the table and onto himself.

He felt akin to a hawk’s prey as Jumin simply pushed his napkin over as he jolted up and waved off help that wanted to come. It was his mess.

He should’ve stayed at home and sent an apology text message. Anything was better than seeing inky, knowing eyes finding his weary blues after he sat down. Anything would have been better than watching Jumin reach across the table and feel his artic touch grace the surface of his cheek and observe with dread filled eyes as he pulled back and rubbed the sticky concealer between his forefinger and thumb.

Being a bad friend was considerably better than the rapid thudding his heart did as he followed Jumin’s other hand as it fingered the edge of his concealer stained cuff then proceeded to push it up with careful coldness to expose a part of himself that he wanted to remain coveted beneath the sludge and recreant. His inadequacy and failures and worthlessness were exposed for all to see in the form of purple splotches and angry red. He couldn’t have been more mortified.

He ripped his hand away and jumped up from his seat once more, this time making a beeline for the exit.

He let himself instinctually go through the motions of returning home. There was an ache within him that he needed to let out, but his usual tools were not an option with his injuries. So, it festered under his skin as he tidied his cleanly home and flipped absentmindedly through a hundred channels, ignoring the protests from his stomach that it was well over twelve hours since he’d eaten anything. There was a different need he wanted to sate, burned to, but couldn’t.

He couldn’t paint. He couldn’t play piano. He couldn’t function his camera. He couldn’t do anything. Idle, his mind wouldn't stop thinking.

He thought about Jumin’s face- how there was such a quality of insouciance, something that was rarely glanced his way. He thought how Jumin could now see how pathetic his so-called friend really was and desired to know what he would do with such information. He thought about how Jumin would inform all the other members and conjured up various reactions of pity and disgust and concern. He thought of how Jumin would leave his empty, cracked shell alone in the waste field where all other unwanted objects were abandoned.

Further and further away he felt from the simple touch of warmth. It made his breaths come out shallow, his gaze fog, and stomach churn, queasy. It made his chest tighten in such a painful way that he was sure he was dying, and he prayed to God that if he were to go that He help Hae Jin with her demons- that if he were to be lucky enough to be met with his Father that his footprint on the lives he trudged through faded and wore over.

Laminate flooring colored his vision; the chill of it finally seeping into his bones after he recognized he was sitting pressed against his bathroom wall, knees drawn up to his chest. There was a dried-up glue feeling on his cheeks, his body shivering from evaporating sweat, and his toes were icy. Exhaustion had hit him like a truck in that moment... and he could do no more than sit and think about how cold everything was.

There was a hum behind the door from the low volume of the television coming from down the hall. It made his apartment feel even lonelier.

As selfish as the act was, he prayed for guidance because he felt as if he were sinking into the abyss. He prayed for direction because currently, he didn’t know which way was up and which was down. He prayed for his soul, feeling it was left wanting and needed forging. He longed to know that he wasn’t on a fruitless endeavor, that there was a way out of the swamp of emotions he felt, so he asked for a sign. No matter how small it was, he knew he’d hold onto it, regardless if he was trampled on and his body bled.

It was no simple favor, yet he found his phone ringing, still in his pocket, forgotten in his panic.

She had called him, and the moment he heard his name uttered, everything felt surreal.

MC was a facet of unyielding truth, and in that moment, she did not falter. He envied the steadfast quality to her. To be able to see and remain walking on a hand carved path was something he believed he experienced at one point of his life, but he was beginning to see it was all a lie. He was too good at acting that he even fooled himself.

He had wondered if MC could sense the falseness of his persona; perhaps that was what the suspicious and astute gazes were for. Like a doll in a window shop, he wanted to know if she disliked what he put up for display.

He’d like to believe she wasn’t lying to him, but he could never be too certain.

What point would she have to lie, a sotto voce of doubt his brain brought to question.

* * *

Nervous wasn’t the word he would assign the feelings he felt getting ready for the event. Just the night before, he had a meltdown after Jumin aired one of his dirty traits. Not only that but there was still a sense of calmness that took over when he thought of talking to MC once more at the party. He would have to restrain himself the pleasure though, sure that Hae Jin would not appreciate the sentiment of familiarity they formed over the days they worked together.

She looked beautiful, like art from a glamour magazine. He felt unqualified to take her arm, but Hae Jin assured him how handsome he looked. He could only take her word for it.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t irate at the traffic and seemed to embrace it, talking to him with bright eyes and energetic gestures. He smiled at her energy, it reminding him of her excitement after he showed her pictures he took while in Paris.

Hae Jin tried to not be swayed by MC’s appearance. He could see it in the tightness of the corners of her eyes and by the slight tensing on his arm. There was palpable tension that even Jaehee had attempted to steer the conversation, which he was very thankful for.

They made their rounds to Saeran first, never formally introduced. The younger considered Hae Jin carefully, tranquil eyes rolling over every micro movement in her face and body and mulling over the tones and pitch of her voice before responding each time. Saeran had given him a lingering glance before walking away to help someone; he endeavored for it to not bother him too much.

Yoosung was next, but he took pity on the student after seeing him so concentrated and cut their chat short, figuring he could do so more thoroughly later. The appeal of who to speak with next left much wanting.

Jumin didn’t escape his eyes since he first stepped in. He lied, convincing himself that he wasn’t avoiding his friend nor the proverbial elephant in the room. Not greeting him would look strange to not only Hae Jin, despite her dislike for him, but to everyone else, so he did just that.

To anyone who didn’t know Jumin, his demeanor was usual, but it was the shortest, most terse conversation he ever had with him. The chill from his looks alone were all the subtext he needed.

Saeyoung was just as bad, in his opinion. He kept making comments and jokes that held another layer of implications that made him inwardly balk and pale. Talking to Hyun afterwards felt like a much-needed glass of water.

His mouth was his own worst enemy at times, and it was only after he finished his speech, he realized what sort of hole he dug for himself. Normally, he was more careful. The world was still tilted.

Hae Jin merely gripped his arm, not unkindly, as they walked towards the group in the back. Saeyoung’s flighty retreat was expected as was Jumin’s continued coldness. Regardless, he fought to brush them off and maintained his normal role of friend, not that Jumin appreciated it much, looking through the performance like cracked crystal.

He could tell the last look Hae Jin did not take lightly, thinking it was aimed at her by the way her hand tightened around his arm. The thought that she would actively voice her thoughts was not what he foresaw, especially not with an audience. MC at that.

His emotions had begun to teeter on the same feelings he experienced from dinner the day before, and he wanted to leave. When steam simmered from crisp water meeting wild flames, he wanted to run out the room and keep going and going. Chest tight and wound up like a tinker toy, he managed to somehow remain some composure in the midst of the passive aggressiveness between both women.

He had been too composed, internally grimacing at the thought. It was unfair, the question implied in Hae Jin’s false adamancy of MC attractiveness. The older woman’s earlier claim about the fault of men and their wandering eyes acted like his second strike after he failed to respond quick enough for Hae Jin.

He struck out an hour later with a compliment that he should have held back on. He could read the words behind Hae Jin’s eyes, her friendliness a book cover to observers. The words morphed to chapters and chapters a novel. It was as if the one mistake he made snowballed; everything there on out was _wrong_. The day started hopeful and the evening looked to finish sour.

At her breaking point, she excused herself to the restroom, saying she couldn’t stand his duplicity.

Ever the shrewd businessman, Jumin cornered him close to a crowd but not too close to where he wouldn’t feel comfortable making his inquiries known. The concern underneath the man’s quiet steeliness made his body clam up. The tugging of his undershirt was involuntary in his nervousness as he failed to play off Jumin’s worry by providing an excuse he knew wouldn’t stick. His friend wasn’t so kind this time though.

Deep browns looked at the hand that came up to his throat, knowing, and flicked to the paleness of his throat as if he were trying to see through the constricting fabric. Instead of more pushing, there was a long pause as Jumin retreated into his head before he metaphorically shoved.

The words washed over him made him feel numb and feel like crying all at the same time. Timbre rang in his head as more hard to swallow truths were uttered, ones he couldn’t bring himself to accept.

His friend didn’t understand, and he found there wasn’t an explanation he could give that Jumin would take- told him there was no way he could, but he knew Hae Jin loved him, that much was apparent.

She chose to stay with him despite all his flaws; how could he not reciprocate in spite of one hers? Was love not accepting everything about the other? He loved her, he did. They were his parting words before leaving Jumin alone, feeling the slip of fingers from his skin.

So close, he was so close to ending the event without another incident, but there was a lingering hand on his shoulder from one of the guests before they left. The hairs on his arm stood on end watching their retreating back. Hae Jin’s smile was sweet, and her eyes stone-cold as she suggested they find somewhere to talk in private. There wasn’t a way to deny her, so they left, trailing down the hall. The more they walked, the more he could see Hae Jin unravel; the fingers curled around his arm pinched the soft skin underneath with her nails.

The push into the room set the tone of the conversation. Like a hurricane warning, he prepared as much as he could. He knew it was coming but was still taken aback when it hit land. Winds were unrelenting and had such speed to where the abused air whistled in his ears.

There was no way to talk down Hae Jin. Every word of denial, affirmation for his devotion was stripped down to its nakedness then tossed aside, valueless. Bracing, prostrate in a shallow ditch to ride out the storm was his only option left. She talked and yelled, antagonizing herself with thoughts of infidelity and betrayal- things that didn’t happen.

Amongst her false beliefs, there rang truth about his unremarkable existence- it so inconsequential when compared. The only thing she ever asked for was his love, and the frustration and hurt that itched on her face was evidence again that he was continuing to act so mediocre.

It wasn’t the first time Hae Jin brought up his mother; he knew it wasn’t what she meant, so he implored to make things right again. Everything started so well. It was his fault a nice evening went awry.

She didn’t want him keeping his correspondence with MC a secret- an easy fix, simple. His comforting touch was slapped away but accepted with defeat the second. Like always, she melted into her affections and forgave him even though her lips spoke otherwise.

The moment was lost when there was a creaking and a neutral faced MC at the door. An emergency of sorts was why she searched for him, but he didn’t want to leave Hae Jin fresh after a fight. He conceded at the end. Pressing his lips to Hae Jin’s head was his display of affirmation, and he hoped it worked as he left her alone in the room.

He needed to keep distance now, physically and emotionally. He could see the confusion on MC’s face along with the hurt that she tried to disguise. Without explanation, she provided the space he sought and only encroached it an inch at a time. By the time he noticed over his trepidation of facing Jumin once more, she was walking side by side with him and caused a small smile to curl on his lips.

She led him to the front door. He took it to mean Jumin was waiting outside for him. It was with heavy heart did he open the door and begin his descent down the stairs.

The gaze he was met with was one he couldn’t discern, and it caused him to pause before getting into the vehicle himself.

It was a quiet moment in the car, the only thing spoken was to the drive. Jumin requested that they drive around which resulted in a jerk of his head towards his friend, a protest halfway out his lips. His heart hammered at the thought of simply _leaving_ Hae Jin without consultation.

His emotions were a discipline the brunet excelled in, so Jumin’s face visibly softened after realizing but did not call to change his order.

Unlike the most recent confrontations, Jumin was almost soft spoken yet the resilience remained, but it was like a river with a dependable current and not whitewater. The questions were slowly asked, his answers patiently taken in and then reiterated once more through Jumin’s own words. His friend wanted to understand him, he could see, but...

They couldn’t see eye to eye.

* * *

The messages kept popping up on his phone, but he had to ignore them even though he wanted to respond with a new white wine recommendation and laugh about Saeyoung’s mirabilia and say how it was him who was humbled after meeting her. There was a responsibility he had to uphold as the leader of the organization he branched an invitation to, so when he did respond, he made sure to keep it professional and detached.

All the other missed alerts from the RFA kept his mind occupied with guilt too much to ponder over MC’s messages. That and Hae Jin had been watching him ever more diligently than normal.

He took to listening to the array of voicemails on his phone while he feigned the task of showering. Saeyoung’s familiar, nasally voice gradually growing worried after each voicemail caused him to cave enough to look at the missed chatrooms.

He inwardly chided himself. How could he overlook something as obvious as a welcome party? He was thankful for Jumin’s reliability while he was at home being selfish.

Unavoidable affirmation that they didn’t need his presence, and he wondered if they ever did.

* * *

The comments about Hae Jin tagging along weren’t anticipated.

Saeyoung was adamant about attending together, so he had to confess that she wanted to come along. The red-head merely paused then okayed. The drive to Hyun’s was uncomfortable despite the constant chatter.

Hae Jin excused herself after they arrived, taking a phone call from her mother. He took that time to explain to everyone- hoping for nothing except that her presence would be taken as something gained and not encroaching.

As much as he was glad to be in the company of everyone, he felt as though all eyes were on him, watching, waiting. The usual three for sure, but now, he felt lingering gazes from the other members as well. Some of his suspicions were already confirmed, having to reassure Yoosung the moment he stepped inside Hyun’s apartment.

It made him unable to relax and retreat into his shell just a bit more, thinking if he made himself a part of the background, no one would pay any mind to him.

It worked for the most part until Saeyoung continuously remained steadfast in pestering Jumin. Considering seating arrangements, the obvious choice was to substitute himself in. He was apprehensive to leave Hae Jin’s side and let Saeyoung take his place next to her, but it appeared Saeyoung pretended the air next to him was unoccupied.

With that in mind, it was unexpected when he finally did speak to Hae Jin and only to interject when she attempted to include herself in his escape from inquiring eyes. He knew how purposeful it was and hated how he felt appreciative of it.

His relief at having time for himself was quickly evaporated as MC volunteered her services as well. He didn’t know what to say after so long, so he feigned tentative normalcy. He had to check his words, and he took extra time to take in and respond to her. MC had always found a way to slip her hands between his cracks and coax the truth out.

They started talking about wine, and he found he couldn’t stop, like a train futilely hitting an emergency break going as fast as it was.

Was he okay?

The trolley problem never felt so relatable to his life as it did then. He was staring at two different options and both cataphoric, neither appealed to the fear and longing in him. Each time MC opened her mouth, it brought him closer and closer to the divide, yet his mind was blank with an answer. Continue on or pull the lever?

He thought of the black, smoky sludge that now formed around him like a second skin under his plaster suit, obscure from everyone else, intimately just for him.

He jumped out of the train.

There was earnestness in her eyes along with something that caused the bowl to slip through his fingers and crash onto the floor. He just wanted a content evening, one that allowed him to forget for just a minute, but he couldn’t have that. Everything evaded his wanting hands and seemed to infect everyone around him.

He was the bowl, and his sharp pieces bit into the flesh around him, regardless of their proximity and carefulness. There would always be shards found days, weeks later and always found when least expected, after a thorough clean up and during a dark unassuming night. It was his fault he broke, and his fault that there was proverbial blood on the ground, however small it was. Blood stained. So, he apologized, it being the only thing he could do.

A warm touch caused his frantic hands to halt in fussing. It almost made him release a breath of relief. His mouth moved automatically to close the incident with as little as problem as he could. There was an inkling of guilt as he settled back down next to Hae Jin, Jumin now sitting where MC had. He ignored the stare he received and chatted quietly with Hae Jin.

She peered at him confused and worried. Hushed words asked if he was alright and what happened. He only smiled and gave a warm tap to the back of her hand before sliding his fingers between hers.

When they returned to his apartment, he silently implored for her to stay. She caved, already figuring out he was in a sort of funk; something happening more often, she muttered between the comfort of his sheets as she enveloped him in a tender, lukewarm embrace.

The lack of heat disappointed him. He needed to feel her love.

* * *

Hae Jin’s patience, as usual, only ever went so far. He tried to conceal his dour emotions the more frustrated and agitated he noticed her appearing. The smile that tugged on his lips was harder to pull off, but he did it to lessen her worry.

Being around her sapped the energy from him though, so as a result, he used work as an excuse for reprieve. Loose ends that needed to be tied tightly and with pristine ribbon in preparation of their future, he had explained. It was a lie though- another one to his growing list.

He would simply stay at home and flick through his memory cards of photos and edit pictures he had no intention of printing. He needed something mindless to do with his hands since he still couldn’t do what he wanted. A pain would shoot up his arm if he overextended or strained it.

If he was tired of that, he would take to his music theory books or one of the many books Jumin gifted him but never had the time to sit down and read. A lot of the time he ended up sleeping in the middle of sentences, a never ending tiredness clinging to the back of his eyelids.

There was a lack of desire to eat, to go outside, to talk to people. Hae Jin mentioned how he looked thinner, one day. She then joked about wanting to know his secret.

* * *

He was not well rested.

He would sleep and wake up feeling as if he merely blinked and woke to a new day. The days began to run together with his extra time; the only thing occupying the hours were the ones he spent with Hae Jin and either in his bed trying to catch up on sleep that out ran him or on the couch where he'd stare outside. On occasion, he'd find enough energy to put himself together to take a walk in the nearby park.

Even when outside, he felt the tugs of dissociation drag at the edges of his mask that he lugged around. It came and went but would always return causing a numbness and existential wave to come up over his head, threatening to drown him.

He'd fight and claw to ground himself with his environment: the sound of traffic, of dogs and children in the park, of music pounding from the inside of stores he walked by, and of carefree conversations that he eavesdropped on. Other sensations worked as well, sometimes even better. The smell of fragrances and the aromas from open shops were the best, taste a close second.

On his way home, one day, his auditory and olfactory weren't working effectively enough. There were plenty of coffee and Boba cafés where he lived, so he merely picked one.

He had the worst luck, he found. There was a pit in his stomach as he took in MC's startled expression. The pit began to burrow in his gut as he watched her hang up her phone call and regard him.

Her eyes were caring and her words carefully nonplussed. His skittish idiosyncrasies inwardly made him cringe, but they were compulsions, now. If he didn't direct his energy, a part of him was afraid of what he would do instead.

MC wouldn't take "no" as an answer, he could tell, so he gave in a bit, just enough to placate for now.

Amber eyes clung to his figure even when he turned his back to her. He could imagine the clockwork inside her head, all the careful consideration she mapped. He was sure it was full of questions, concerns, and speculations- none of which he wanted to appease with a response.

With a knowing yet paranoid mind, his hands triple checked the state of the zipper to his raincoat before turning around to face her.

To his surprise, she didn't put to words any of her pondering, even after he took the initiative to go on the defensive. Immediately, guilt tugged his lips into a firm line, and his mouth stopped flopping like a fish out of water after MC subtly pointed out his recent behavior.

She tried to lift his moods with talk about his work, but it turned him sullen inside, and a wan expression wanted to break across his face. He told her he had thought of going on a break, but of course that wasn't the full truth, and it wasn't the only thing he was considering for a hiatus, temporary or permanent.

He had to plan it right; everything had to be perfect. If it wasn't, more feelings would find their way under his clumsy feet, and he couldn't bear to see anymore broken hearts.

There was no more time allotted to the whimsical and spontaneous artist anymore, there was just the lover and an awesomely flawed man who couldn't put his broken pieces back together anymore. Every time he wanted to give up, he'd be reminded of Hae Jin's struggles- her grief and ache for something warm and unbound, something with an embrace so tantalizingly sweet that she could call her own after a short lifetime of hurt and vulnerability. He wanted that for her, so he continued to pick up the shards and mend, even when the brittle, jagged edges seeped into his skin, drawing bottomless red.

There was no pity to accept, no words of comfort to pat on his back; MC's words would not break his resolve even if he felt dejected in the moment. The feeling would have passed like everything else did.

She pushed, and he ignored then she _saw_ . She _saw_ and it was like being in the restaurant with Jumin all over again: dark brown eyes conscious yet void, cold fingers ghosting over his clammy skin.

His mind blanked, and the only thing he registered was that he couldn't do this again. Not again.

He wanted to leave as fast as his heart thumped beneath his chest, to run as fast as his weary feet could take him, but he couldn't move.

Every word uttered between them made the nauseous feeling grow tenfold. He could feel the weight of the few sips he took of his drink burning in his stomach and regretted walking into the coffee shop altogether.

He let her talk because he could not, and his feet were still dumbly rooted to the ground. He felt incompetent and worthless hearing her affirmations of support and sympathy. He wasn't any sort of victim, and he didn't need help.

The hand offered was ignored.

Routine had him blindly punch in his access code so he could retreat into his haven. He could feel a bit of his nausea subside and his heart not jump too harshly inside his chest when he finally opened the door, but it all flipped upside down when MC tugged on his hand, determined to get her point across.

The grip was not unkind, but it reminisced one that was unruly and vicious as it squeezed on a loving bruise that shook him to his core. He cried out; she let go, and he never walked so fast to his apartment.

Breaths were uneven and in huffs when he leaned against his front door. The tea in his hand that was forgotten remained so as both hands came up to his face, trying to feel that he was there. His stomach wouldn't stop clenching, and not even noticing the blended mess of purple and pink splattered all over the floor, stepped into it, boots and all, as he rushed to his bathroom, hands over his mouth.

He curled into the toilet bowl just in time to see what little contents of his stomach come heaving out.

His hands shook, and he shook. What a state he was in. All of Hae Jin's truths never made him feel this pathetic before.

Cleaning himself up took a lot more effort than he had, and when he finished, he knew he had to do it.

It was earlier than planned, but he moved forward and waited until he was sure everyone was either sleeping or doing nightly activities before signing in and leaving his message.

He wanted it to be clean and the least painful break he could give everyone. Considering how his day was going, he should've waited.

Yoosung came into the chatroom just as he was getting ready to sign off, and he couldn’t be avoided. Hurt and indignant, Yoosung tried to throw buoys in the water while he intentionally lapped away the waves to slip them from his grasp.

Leaving, there wasn’t a minute that passed before he got a call from the younger. He ignored it and powered down his phone, knowing the repercussions for doing so might earn him another harsh word at his inconsideration but thought it worth it if he could just sleep without looking expectantly at his phone.

* * *

Through his bedroom door and the fortitudes of a dreamless sleep, he heard a knocking at his front door. The side that had better sense checked his phone and saw there were four unanswered calls from Hae Jin and twenty-one unread text messages.

The ache in his bones was tolerated as he dragged himself out of his bed and to his front door. There was more knocking before he could look through the hole in his door. He hesitated because he thought it was Hae Jin, and he didn’t have the energy at the moment. Although, something told him it wasn’t her. He hesitated once more when he saw a different blonde on the other side of his door.

The door opened, and MC asked for entrance. As much as he didn’t want to be rude, his injured arm adamantly protested.

He was given a gift instead of questions. Saeyoung’s note banished the remaining sleep from his face. Saeyoung had told him he was there for him. The care that went into getting him the burner phone, to writing the handwritten note, and selecting those words was too much for him. He was already on the precipice; now, he was dangling with loose rocks and sweating hands.

He had half the heart to just let go because everything was too much. As much as a secret part of him desperately looked up at the hand descending for his reach, he couldn’t take it. He was on the line between giving up or giving in, and he didn’t know if letting go would cause him to rise or fall.

MC did something he wouldn’t have ever guessed to. An apology came from her lips.

He hated how weak he was for still liking he was cared for. He didn’t want to see scratch marks from clawing over to the edge just to save him, yet he saw who stood on the other side of his door and opened it; yet, he still kept sight of the helpline provided to him.

He hated every fiber of his being for relishing in MC’s kind parting words. They made him so confused and conflicted that he felt the urge to cry like no other. He wanted to cover his ears and tell her to be quiet and run into the careful, reassuring embrace of his mother’s arms. Instead, he quietly closed the door and pressed his uninjured hand against the door, needing to feel something since he couldn’t feel anyone.

* * *

For the first time in a long while, he dreamed. He wasn’t sure what it all meant either. It slipped through his clumsy fingers the moment his eyes fluttered open and his conscious registered he was still in the same position from five hours ago.

He remembered a warm sky and the pull of his lips and architecture- Greece. He had been in Greece, that he knew for sure. The rest was just a feeling. The contentedness he felt from the dream dulled with every second after waking. It made something clench in his stomach, something reminiscent of longing and heartache. There was a fleeting emotion of being at ease that he desired to chase but knew there wasn’t any point given his weary state.

He dreaded the thought of giving chase, but he didn’t mind being dragged, so long as someone held his hand.

Hae Jin made it certain that she would see him as often as she could now, despite feeble protests. Even though he forewarned her, she grew increasingly upset at his lackluster demeanor. He could only hold his persona for so long, and at times, he slipped up to where the ugliness and fog suffocated the apartment.

Hae Jin took his crooked smiles and sighs to mean that she was the problem. She would get hysterical, claiming he blamed her for his indifferent state. One afternoon, in a fit of rage, she purposefully smashed the clay figurine Yoosung made for him of his LOLOL avatar. It was made what seemed like a lifetime ago.

He had invited the college student to an art studio, wanting him to transfer his stress from finals into a creative outlet. The laughter and smiles he partook in that day might as well have been from another person.

He felt like mourning all of sudden, so he ignored Hae Jin’s exploding ire to scoop up the pieces into his palms and retreated to his room which he later locked.

* * *

It was a very slow, tiresome day, more than usual if that was possible, when he received a message that Hae Jin was on her way over. She had made the plan days ago, but he had forgotten.

It was quicker work than usual, making himself more presentable and picking up the scattered articles of dirty clothing and dishware that ran out of steam to their destination. His body felt like it didn’t belong to him, as if he were a mere passenger to it’s mechanics. The space between his ears were foggy, and he tried to clear it up with coffee. It worked enough to where there was energy to smile and chat with Hae Jin, making small talk about her day.

The sun was setting, and she decided to stay the channel on a horror film with cheap jump scares. It resulted in her flinching so hard that the tea in her cup sloshed over the rim of her mug to spill onto the front of her shirt. They both laughed, and she went to his bedroom to grab one of the shirts stored in the space that was deemed hers in the bottom right cubby in his closet.

His eyes stared at the screen in front of him but didn’t register the moving pictures and corresponding sounds. Instead, his mind lingered on the dream he had last week. The feelings associated with it felt faded, like an error in graphite erased with cheap synthetic rubber, leaving the ghost of a mistake, barely there- present yet undistinguishable.

He knew he was content in the dream. Looking around, he figured any other person would consider this the epitome of contentedness: with a loved one, sharing intimate space while sitting in on a weekday, sharing quality time together after a taxing day. 

He felt no such feeling though. Instead, there was an obtuse and harrowing hollowness rooted deep within his chest. It was no stranger to him now, and he loathed that.

Was that feeling going to remain indefinitely?- should it?

He stared at the small screen to the burner phone Saeyoung gifted him. It had sat like a weight in his pocket, and now, it was pulled out and lit up with the call connecting screen until he quickly hung it up and pocketed it.

Hae Jin’s reappearance was marked with a silent sort of shout. It was like the quiet yet distinct rumble of thunder before a storm that hailed harsh rains and lightning, something he would have to count between each sighting to determine how close it came within his vicinity, how close he was to danger.

Unfortunately, there was only one rolling moan from the sky before the sharp clapping of lightning struck. His body froze from shock and anticipation of what was to come, and when he finally realized why she was upset he couldn’t have been more mortified.

Among all the accusations of cheating and lying, he saw the wave of her hands holding something from the corner of his eyes. It made him finally turn towards her hysterical figure. His face quickly pulled down at the guilt and dread that crept up his throat. One minute the designer box was being crushed under Hae Jin’s harsh grip, then in the next, it went flying towards the wall. It tumbled, spilling out it’s contents on the violent fall down.

Elegant, white heels innocently laid on his floor, almost asking why. The same question was asked by the shattered figurine in a box in his closet.

He didn’t know.

The simplicity of their questions almost made him cry in quiet desperation for an answer.

Hae Jin’s yelling acted like a symphony of atonal dissonance, something harsh and unappealing to his ears. It was shocking that he never noticed it's chaotic overtures. It blared a warning: Danger.

Suddenly, he felt fearful, afraid of what Hae Jin would do. His mind felt in sync with his body in what felt like a long time; it was akin to a puzzle sliding into its rightful place after spending an hour searching for it only to find it inside the box all along.

Every word she spoke was nonsensical, and he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in return for fear of what he could say.

There was a hammering in his chest and with it, an emotion he hadn’t felt in what felt like eons. He remembered it wilting and springing up slightly before only to be stomped on yet again- a flower attempting to bloom only to be sabotaged repeatedly from ailments and skyscrapers.

He felt it during his first exhibit, after finishing his first painting, after telling Hae Jin he loved her, after getting on that airplane to Greece, whenever he found himself around MC, when he stopped Hae Jin’s hand from connecting to his face, and now… now, he felt it.

His throat tried to close up, overwhelmed by the intensity of emotions swirling inside him after feeling everything with such dullness for so long. He tried to exude calmness though when he gathered up the resolution to stand up and talk to Hae Jin.

He told her he loved her, that what was so clearly in front of her was so morphed that she was unable to distinguish for what it was anymore. He assured her, then parroted back promises she made, promises of metamorphosis and love, _real_ love. He sympathized with Hae Jin, explained that he knew she had her own demons and he as well, that they could help each other conquer them together since they couldn’t seem to do it alone. He brought up therapy again.

Keeping his tone even was surprisingly easy, but he couldn’t help his idiosyncrasies- the trembling and shaking and flinching. Hae Jin quieted down at first; then eyes slowly drank up the tells of his underlying insecurity and uncertainty. A fire rose in her eyes and set her back alight after the word “therapy”.

A knick-knack from his travels was smashed next to her feet, then another in his general direction. He flinched away and watched as papers from the coffee table flew to the ground then splattered, pages spreading out like blood droplets.

There was a sharp ringing in his ears from glass being shattered in his kitchen. With alarm he snapped his gaze and quickly made way to Hae Jin who took advantage of the dishes on his drying rack next to the sink. He caught her wrists in both his hands before a bowl was sent into pieces.

He felt his heart break a little at the anger with an undertone of hurt. He begged her to stop, careful that while he remained firm with his grip that he didn’t hurt her. He didn’t want that.

Hae Jin started crying, and he felt the urge to wrap his arms around her like she were a child and assure her that the world wasn’t bad, but that option was yanked from him as she retched her hands away from his grasp, and a ringing reverberated in his ears from her hand coming across his face. Her voice sounded as if he were standing at the bottom of a well. A distant sound of glass shattering behind him then there was an acute ache from her fingers pressing into his skin, a mirror of his own actions just moments ago.

It was uncomfortable and steadily gnawing at painful, so the harsh breath that left his mouth was uncontrollable. She revelled in his pain, and he didn’t understand why when he didn’t.

She squeezed harder, and his shoulders cringed as he inhaled sharply. His heart pumped faster as he weakly attempted to pull away, and she cried more words and tears. It wasn’t helpful to talk over her, but his wrist was in such agony that the pleas came out faster than his rationale could kick in.

He shuttered a breath when she finally acquiesced, but she didn’t, not really, because there was a knocking at the door that forced her attention elsewhere.

It was MC. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, only able to brace his weight on his kitchen counter and pray she didn’t notice how off everything was. The pain that shot up his arm allowed him to concentrate on stabilizing his voice.

As soon as the other blonde came, she went. Internally, he was relieved.

More yelling, always yelling, but then Hae Jin had gone to pick up a glass, stepping into the fray of scattered remains to do so. Her mocking tone had nothing over his visible worry. He wondered for the first time why they couldn’t sit down and discuss things like normal couples did.

A frown almost tugged at his lips when she disrespected the other members. He wanted to change her mind, _needed_ her to see that he was sincere, that they liked her. He was beginning to grow flustered and overwhelmed again that his gaze started its darting, as if he could find the words somewhere- then he saw _her_.

MC had seen everything- he was sure of it. Wondering how she got access to his flat was swept under emotions of fear and concern. She shouldn’t have come.

He guessed MC was attempting to help smooth down their fight, and it seemed to work for a hopeful second until she got the glass meant for him thrown at her instead. His heart dropped down into his stomach as he watched her thankfully dodge it.

MC should not have been there; he could handle his problems. He was fine. Her help made his head spin, and he wanted everything to stop. He wanted no more screaming and crying and violence. He didn’t want Hae Jin to be so troubled, for him to continue troubling. He so badly wanted her self-destructiveness to stop. Selfishly and desperately he wanted his own suffering to stop. He just wanted…

He didn’t think it should have been so hard to get, but things most wanted were often denied with such savagery that the bitterness was worth the sweetness that came after overcoming the strenuous tribulations to achieve it. In this case, the sweetness guised poison that seeped below it, tasteless as it was deadly. He didn’t know how much more he could withstand, if he should. Was it worth it? Was this right?

Warning bells went off once more, alerting him to spring into action. Desperate, he attempted to make it all just _stop_.

She cut him off with, and he felt pressure to his sternum. He lost his balance, felt a burning pain in his foot, and in the panic of it all, blindly reached for what could not save him and all went dark.

* * *

Fire was warm, passionate, and blazed so brilliantly it allured him, entranced him. He wanted that light to consume him so that maybe it could fill even a fraction of its being inside him. There was a part of his soul that was void and dense, something set aside in a steel box with the key inside the lock. He wanted to find out if casting a torch inside would melt the metal and morph it into something he felt so long ago.

Despite hopes, it burned back and consumed not only the empty vacuum but grew wild to where the flames started to lick the surrounding area, akin to a bonfire gone wrong.

There was a wave of a stream not too far away that curled and winded into a body of water, a deposit he knew would rid the flames from reducing him to ashes, but he thought perhaps if it did… if he ceased to be nothing, those ashes could recreate him anew.

The water looked cool, calming, and assured healing and a different type of warmth deep within it’s oasis. Enchanted, like a moth to a flame, his gaze would always blink back to the whickering and flickering flames scorching against the fragments of his wind chafed soul, almost like a gentle caress despite the putrid scent of burning illuminating it was anything but.

He wanted to know. 

“ _Did your mother not say the sun, unconditional and asking for nothing in return, was love_?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope this came across well. This turned into a monster. I only intended to write 5k, LOL. I'd love feedback on this one. Anyways, if I didn't address something from CFTC you were curious about or have questions, let me know.  
> Happy Thanksgiving and Diwali :))  
> Happy reading!  
> ~WAC


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